Bumper Stickers

*Ok so this first part has nothing to do with bumper stickers.

I haven’t posted in a while, but it’s been for a good reason.

I’ve been in training for my new job and it’s been pretty intense. Despite having no medical background, I now am somehow advising physicians on cardiology products and procedures.

Scary right?

Anyway, I’ve been studying really hard to make sure I don’t have a hand in accidentally killing your Nana.

At this point, I’d like to note that my restoration magic skill isn’t very high.

Destruction magic is more my forte’. You can see how I don’t want this scenario playing out to its conclusion.

Back to our regularly scheduled program.

*Alright, this is the part where I talk about bumper stickers.

For those that don’t know, I’ve spent the past three years living in Germany. Now, I’m back in the US and I’m trying to get used to our crazy little culture all over again.

One thing that I’ve forgotten about Americans is that we’re under the impression that other people really want to know what we think… all the time.

I often find myself surrounded by the unsolicited opinions of others.

I think this tendency to share is best expressed in the bumper sticker concept.

Think about it. When someone attaches a bumper sticker to their car they’re saying, “Everyone who is blown by the winds of fate and winds up stuck behind my car NEEDS to see this. This makes me happy.”

Bumper stickers are seldom seen outside of the US, so I’ve decided to put together a handy sampling of bumper sticker translations for my fellow countrymen & women.

Here’s what your bumper stickers are really saying, enjoy.


P.S. Bumper stickers are now available in the Underwhelmer Store.

P.P.S. If you clicked the link above, then you found that there were no bumper stickers in the store, only sadness… lonely, infinite sadness.

The Great Migration Part IV: The Finale

With all of the medical poking and prodding done, the hop across the pond behind me, and with a job picked out, it was now time to move across the country and start my new career.

I had landed a job in New Jersey and it was now time to pack up and move from my base of operations in Florida.

Wife and I were apprehensive at first. I had spent the majority of my life in the Southeastern United States. In fact, I had never been farther north than Tennessee. As a kid, I was always told that people from the Northeast were rude, spoke too fast and should be feared because they were smarter than us.

I fully expected to arrive in New Jersey and be intimidated by their hyper-advanced culture.

I didn’t have time to worry about this though because Wife and I were busy preparing for the nineteen hour drive ahead of us.

We had packed the car with enough provisions to feed a caravan full of 18th century pioneers. The car looked ridiculous, but we really wanted to avoid a situation like this…

Thank you Oregon Trail for teaching me the values of preparation, packing and giving me a healthy fear of amoebic dysentery.

The trip to New Jersey went well for the most part. Wife and I, being control freaks and planning gurus, left very little to chance. What we didn’t count on though, was Other Cat. Other Cat had not been taking the whole, “let’s move to another continent and start a new life” thing very well.

Being a six pound creature, Other Cat is ultimately driven by the singular desire to hide and not be eaten. So Other Cat lives in a constant state of idling fear and paranoia that is accented with occasional spikes of abject terror.

Wife and I had spent the past several years reassuring Other Cat that we are loving and caring human overlords. We had actually gotten to the point where we could pet Other Cat without her trying to run away in terror.

All of this was shattered when the movers came and systematically removed all of the furniture. Without any hiding spots, Other Cat began to head toward psychological meltdown.

Every time we moved to a new location, Other Cat would slip into psychosis and meow all day and night.

I awoke several times in a crappy motel room with Other Cat meowing at full volume inches from my face, imploring that I use my magical human/god powers to fix the situation.

The only good thing through all of this was that Other Cat found each move so traumatic that she forgot the previous move.

So on and on the cycle went, from one motel room to another as we made our way to New Jersey. Other Cat’s mental collapse had come to a crescendo when we finally moved into our apartment.

Unlike all the motel rooms, this apartment was completely unfurnished. Our furniture was still being shipped across the country. Other Cat’s hiding places had been reduced to a card table and an inflatable mattress.

Her sleepless meowing session lasted for four days.

Other Cat eventually relented before I had to revoke my PETA membership. I think she eventually passed out from exhaustion and slept for a few days straight. By then, the furniture had arrived and she had plenty of places to hide and feel safe.

Once I was a fully rested and functioning member of society again, I began to explore my environs. New Jersey was certainly not the land of the future I had thought it to be, but the people are surprisingly nice and friendly.

All of my preconceived notions were dispelled, until I got on the highway. The personality transformation in the other motorists was instant. The moment they got behind the wheel, these New Jersey drivers turned into these awful creatures of hatred and insanity.



People drove like they were trolling internet forums; mean, petty and obnoxious. The average spacing between cars was roughly 7 feet, the speed limit was just a suggestion and the merge lane became another opportunity to pass.

It felt like everybody in New Jersey was racing on the road to some finish line and winner’s circle that I was somehow unaware of.

At first I was taken aback, but I thought of my years driving on the autobahn. I asked myself, “what would a German driver do in this situation?” The answer; turn up the techno, stomp on the gas and show everyone how well an Audi can handle at 240kph. I reached down deep and harnessed my inner German and began practicing precision aggressive driving; I haven’t looked back since. I have, however, factored in speeding tickets into my monthly budget. Hurray for multiculturalism.

I guess since I’ve been such a world traveler over the years that my move to Jersey has not required much adjusting. I’m still trying to figure out what a turnpike is… I’m pretty sure it’s when you take a normal road, put it in New Jersey and then make it all retarded. Wife and I are doing well. I like my new job and now I’m finally starting to get the time I need to devote to the blog.


P.S. Have a Happy Mother’s Day!

P.P.S. Stay tuned for more amazing brain funnies from the underwhelmer.


Nearly every time that I get behind the wheel of a vehicle, I am reminded how much other people suck at driving.

I’m not really sure where the disconnect is. Maybe these people didn’t listen to their driving instructors when they were teens or maybe they have acute and uncontrollable spastic fits while driving.

Maybe they’re driving with an enraged were-beaver in the passenger seat.

Regardless of the cause, the end result is the same. I always find myself behind someone with the driving ability of a cucumber.

In addition to being a vegetable, I imagine that having a room temperature IQ only complicates things when you’re trying to decipher those fiendishly complex dials and controls near that wheel-thingy.

Car to a normal person.

Car to the intellectually challenged.

I know I can’t change the world, but I can at least survive it. Here’s some things to do to even the odds out there.

Here’s a technique that I use often. I call it the patience lesson. Often times, I’m followed by a person that is in such a hurry that they’re nearly ramming my car. I often speculate that the only thing stopping them from actually doing so is the threat of prison time and, of course, the forcible sodomy that goes with prison.

*I’ve never been to prison, but TV depicts it as one long period of continuous rape occasionally interrupted by brief instances of gang rape so that’s the image I portray to others.

If I’m lucky and fate smiles upon me, I get stopped at a red light with this person behind me. They often crowd my bumper all the way to the stop light as well. This is good because it helps me strengthen the trap.

When the light turns green, I just sit there and look at them in my rear view mirror and I feast upon their despair and woe. They scream and yell at me. They honk their horn and pound their dashboard as they realize they’ve gotten too close to my car and they can’t get around me. I drink in their rage. It is delicious. I usually wait for the light to turn red for 1.2 seconds and then I go. This gets me through the intersection (just barely) and it obliterates any chance of the tail-gater making the light.

Another way to improve your skills and thereby be more awesome on the road is to build up your tolerance with multi-tasking. Often times, highly skilled drivers can be knocked off of their game by something as trivial as answering a cell phone or solving a Rubik’s Cube.

Enter the distraction….

I say do these things often and in conjunction with each other. Try adding juggling and tatoo removal as well. With enough practice you could be a Jedi Master* at this stuff and driving will soon become the easiest thing you do in a car.

* While walking around in Florence, Italy I saw the driving equivalent of a unicorn shitting a glitter rainbow. There was a local bus driver adeptly turning his massive bus, at speed, down a Vespa-choked alley while smoking a cigarette AND talking on a cell phone. He missed me by mere centimeters, but I was still touched by his aura of awesomeness. Bravo, little Italian dude, bravo.

Another great way to be more awesome at driving is to add (you guessed it) PIRATES! Grab a few salty mercenaries, make a few modifications to the old Wagon Queen Family Truckster and voila! You’re ready to murder and pillage atop the asphalt!

The pirate car is equipped to deal with any and all road-related annoyances.

Got somebody that won’t stop tail-gating you?


Is some rich prick flaunting his new convertible as he passes you?


Are you stuck in traffic and late for your afternoon pillaging?


You will, of course, have to keep a sharp eye out for ninjas though. The pirate/ ninja war is still ongoing and don’t think for one second that pirates are the only faction that has developed murdering car technologies.